Sylvanas Windrunner: Trading One Hell for Another
by The Nickname
Summary: Sylvanas had trapped herself in a box full of mistrust and disrespect, and after her insidious plot in Stormhiem failed, she can't decide which hell she would rather endure. - Rated T for themes of suicide. - Reviews are encouraged.


**Just something I felt like cooking up. Let me know if I should make a full story about Sylvanas based on this.**

The skies had grown dark in the hours that had passed, and the winds had picked up and begun crashing against the treetops. The tides formed enormous waves that crashed against the rocks that lay below. Above the tides stood a tall and unstable ridge. It extended outward, as if it pointed towards the yonder horizon, allowing a stable platform to stand upon. This was taken advantage of by an elven woman, though her identity as such had long since passed.

Her skin was an unnatural hue of grey, and her eyes shone a haunting red. She was clad in a securely armoured battle suit and armed with a bow. She stared unmoving out towards the distant oceans, until her eyes shut tightly. She lowered her head as a warmth welled in her chest and began to pain her. She held her chest with her open palm, her other remaining clutched to the bow. Soon, the bow fell out of her hand and landed, though she had little concern for the weapon.

She sighed in dismay as the pain in her chest worsened, but while the pain was familiar, it could not be named. She had felt this pain for so many years, an emotional pain, built from so many years of torment, distrust and spite. She sniffed suddenly as the pain took its toll. A single tear rolled down her cheek, though it was ignored. Finally, she reopened her eyes, exposing all of the raw emotional pain and sadness that she had tried to contain behind her calm demeanour for longer than she could remember.

Sylvanas looked downwards from the edge of the peak, watching as the waves crashed against the rocky shoreline. She said nothing, her single tear trailing from her cheek and falling towards the crashing waves. She couldn't help but question herself and how she had come to be here. All of the enemies she had made and how she had made them, and yet, there were more questions to come from these thoughts.

What about these enemies? What were there reasons? And her allies, the Forsaken? The Forsaken had looked up to her for guidance, though she felt herself nothing more than equal to them. So many wished to hunt them to extinction, and they had become desperate. The horde was hesitant to accept them, and rightfully so, considering the suffering that the Undead Scourge had brought them.

Sylvanas spent so many years trying to prove herself and her allies as loyal and dependable, but her promises had fallen on deaf ears. Nobody trusted her, and this at least made sense. She was an elf, and her allies were all formerly humans. The Horde had no reason to believe a word she said.

But that was so many years ago. Since then, Sylvanas had been true to her word more times than she could hope to count. But even now, to hear the very words from her closest ally had left a scar deeper than any blade. To hear her Warchief say, "I never trusted you".

Sylvanus's mind was in shambles, unable to find any reason amidst the anarchy. She was made the Warchief, and all this has done is paint an even bigger target on her head. She had aided the Alliance in their fight against the Burning Legion, and even earned the respect from their leader.

She had ambitions. She had plans to spare herself from the void that awaited her in death. All of her laid-out plans ruined by a spiteful and ruthless beast by the name of Genn. Despite her hate for the worgen king, Sylvanas had grown to hate herself for this bogus scheme of maintaining godly power. Her Horde would easily consider her plot with disgust and hate. Even maybe her own Forsaken would grow to denounce her as there queen.

And now, she was left alone.

As she stood upon one of the many ridges of Stormheim, the emptiness in her heart from the loneliness she felt had begun to take its toll. She knew, deep within whatever remained of her heart, that none respected her. At least four of her former allies now would like nothing better than to kill her. She imagined Genn Greymane holding her severed and mauled head for his fellow worgen, and imagined them howling and cheering in applause for her destruction.

For so long, she had no idea of what she was supposed to be. She wanted support for her people, but so many mistakes were made that she could never be redeemed for. And beyond that, she had found betrayal by even her most trusted allies. She had found it from Lord Godfrey, Varimathras, Garrosh Hellscream, Koltira, Putress…

Even her own sister, Vereesa.

Sylvanas collapsed to her knees from this final thought. To think that how own sister, a person that she thought that she could rely on for so many years, would abandon her to her fate. She had tried to convince herself that she was never meant for love, but this had failed. So here she was now, standing upon the brink of insanity for the many hardships that she has undergone.

She sobbed openly to herself, uncaring of whomever may hear her. She clenched her fists and slammed them against the hard rock beneath her, screaming at the top of her lungs from the agony within her soul.

"WHY?!" she shouted, before her eyes began to pour forth a deluge. Her hands had begun to bleed from the impact against the rock, though she paid little heed. She knew it now. That nothing was ever going to get better for her. She knew that she was doomed to suffer at the hands of those she had considered her closest friends. However, when thinking this, an emptiness filled her heart. She stepped up from the rock and hung her head silently.

She had no friends.

This was all she needed. All the motivation for her to continue with her plan. The Val'kyr had no knowledge of her intentions, all for the better. She knew that they would stop her from what she was about to do. Nobody would find her corpse and it would be lost to thee open ocean.

She remembered her suicide from atop Icecrown, and the horror she experienced beyond the mortal plain. She had been destined to suffer for eternity in the afterlife, though she could not even fathom what she had done to deserve this cruel fate. Perhaps all creatures tainted by dark magic must be damned, no matter how pure their intentions are.

Nevertheless, it didn't matter to her. She would trade one hell for another, and no hell could be any worse than this one.

She took her first step forwards, approaching her oncoming fate. Soon, however, she smiled to herself of the irony. All of the enemies who would sought her out and wanted her dead for the past few years. Imagine how disappointed they would be when they found out that they would not have the chance to enjoy her passing. However, while this was supposed to bring satisfaction to the Banshee Queen, it only helped to further plague her mind with these feelings of loss and hopelessness.

But she stopped.

She sensed that she was no longer alone. She felt a presence surround her, several eyes watching her. She remained still and fell silent, listening carefully for any sign of this presence. She slowly turned to face the base of the ridge from whence she had come, and was immediately confused by the sight.

Several familiar faces has stood together behind her, all of them watching her curiously. All of the leaders of the Horde were currently standing behind her. But not just them, but the Alliance leaders as well. Even Jaina and Nathanos were there. However, her suspicions were confirmed at the sight of Vol'jin and Varian Wrynn. She turned to face away from her observers, her expression never faltering.

She knew that none of them were actually there. None of them would bother.

Vol'jin spoke in a regal manner "Sylvanas… I be makin' ya Warchief fa a reason". Sylvanas was silent for a moment, her eyes glistening as tears continued to roll down her cheeks. "I could never hope to understand why you chose me. Perhaps the poisoned blade… had corrupted your thoughts" she answered her predecessor.

Nathanos soon intervened and shouted "M'lady! You cannot die now. The Forsaken need a leader to give them guidance". Sylvanas was unswayed, "Another can replace me" she answered before she sniffed distraughtly, "may _they_ offer the guidance you seek". Nathanos turned away from this response, his head lowered in defeat.

Lor'themar then bowed respectfully and informed the elven queen "Sylvanas, the Blood Elves must offer their respects for your aid to our people". Sylvanas answered sharply " _Aid_? I am the spawn of the monster who wronged you from the beginning. I don't deserve your condolences". Lor'themar sighed as he stepped away.

However, the next voice had taken her by surprise. Varian stepped forward and kneeled, "You have proven yourself worthy of my respect, Sylvanas. You were among the first to aid us on the broken shore". Sylvanas was silent, her sorrow welling up inside her for a second time. "I had failed you. And now your allies seek revenge against me for it".

From behind Varian, out stepped Liam Greymane, the prince of Gilneas that Sylvanas had murdered in cold blood. "You weren't responsible for the invasion of Gilneas. You were under the whim of Garrosh's tyrannical rule. I forgive you for my death". "Murder cannot be forgiven" Sylvanas explained, her throat dry from her sobbing, "Your father knows that… and I do as well".

Finally, the voice she expected to hear from the group, was the very original leader of the Horde himself. "The Horde are on the brink of war with the Alliance. The Horde need a leader now more than ever!" Thrall exclaimed. Sylvanas shook her head slowly and answered, "Wrong… Perhaps the Alliance may accept the Horde's cooperation once again... when _I'm_ no longer part of it". Speaking this suddenly brought a searing pain to her lungs. She wheezed dryly as she wept.

However, there was a silence that followed her words. She awaited the next excuse for her to cling to her worthless and excruciating life. Eventually, her curiosity began to overwhelm her and she turned to face her observers.

All of them had vanished without a trace. All except for one.

Jaina stared at her intensely, her eyes sporting no malice as they normally would. She expressed no rage or hatred towards the one who would otherwise be her worst enemy. Instead, she was expressing sympathy towards her, something that Sylvanas never thought she would receive. It felt uncomfortable to receive pity. It felt… patronising.

"Please, Sylvanas… You are in so much pain… you're suffering. I can see it" Jaina began, her voice soft and withdrawn, "But there are those who shall aid you in this dark hour. They may offer you the support that you deserve". Sylvanas looked back at the cliff's peak, her salvation from her eternal emotional torture and her return to the void. She breathed heavily as the warmth welled in her chest again.

She closed her eyes, muttering simply "No… That's not true".

She stepped towards the end of the cliff and stopped just before the edge. Several rocks beneath her boots broke free and plummeted to the shore below. "Nobody trusts me… and I can't trust anyone else anymore" she continued, "Nobody respects me for who I am... or _what_ I am".

"Sylvanas… please don't do this... you deserve so much better" Jaina begged her, though the elf refused to heed her pleas.

"I know I disgust you all… and I deserve your disgust" the undead beauty added, fresh tears emerging in her eyes. It was strange. Of all people, Jaina Proudmoore should find delight in her death. Even as far as her own addled hallucinations can present themselves, there was no reason why this Jaina would act this way towards her. But in the end, it didn't matter.

She leaned further over the edge, preparing for her final act. "And I disgust myself…" she sneered hatefully through her gritted teeth. She looked back towards her consultant, only to find nothing but the forest clearing to meet her eye. "I hate myself for thinking… for actually imagining that..." she continued, her eyes pouring relentlessly and her voice beginning to break, "that anyone of you would care for me…" she could hardly stand as she grew weak in her knees "that anyone would… understand".

It was time.

Sylvanas took a great leap from the edge of the ridge and began her descent. She closed her eyes in preparation for the impact, remaining unaware of when she's strike the shoreline. It will be instant. She will disappear from Azeroth and be eternally damned as a victim of the void. Those who hated her would rejoice in her passing, perhaps even her own forsaken.

However, before she could fall beyond the peak of the cliff, she felt herself halt in middle of the air. She felt her arm raised above her head and a tight grip on her wrist. She opened her eyes in surprise to see the rocks along the shore, no longer rapidly approaching her. She looked up to find an even greater surprise.

Her right hand man, Nathanos was holding her by her arm, preventing her forthcoming destiny. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" he screamed in horror. Sylvanas remained silent turned her gaze towards the ground beneath her. Nathanos then lowered his other hand down to her, "Sylvannas, grab my hand! I'll pull you up!"

Once again, there was no response. Sylvanas' free arm hung by her side, while her other arm remained limp within his grasp. She simply leaned her head up and looked deeply into her faithful ally's eyes. "Please… Nathanos" she pleaded, tears re-emerging from her eyes, "Please... let me do this".

Nathanos was utterly stunned. Sylvanas was committing suicide!? What the hell would make her do that?! The moment Nathanos' grip began slipping, he knew it didn't matter. Sylvanas closed her eyes once again, awaiting her moment of release. It would come any second now.

"SYLVANAS!"

Nathanos lost his grip.


End file.
